A lone willow bends by the silent river, its branches tracing secrets on the water’s surface. An old fisherman rows slowly, humming a tune forgotten by time. He casts his net not for fish, but for memories drifting like autumn leaves. One evening, a shimmering koi leaps, whispering a riddle in the mist: “Seek not the moon in the water, but the light that lets you see it.” The fisherman smiles, realizing he had held the answer all along—in the warmth of his own hands, in the rhythm of his hear...
